Tis such a struggle each day to get Spook dressed and fed, then the cats, and finally, myself.

It has gotten difficult just to shower everyday. Which is totally NOT in my character but a facet of the depression.

Lately, the depressive side has been winning.

But when I saw the shrink, I told her the depression is a 3 out of 5 most days. She thinks this is significant improvement and my meds need not be changed.

I expressed my concerns about the seasonal affect.

She suggested light therapy (Um, spent two hundred bucks on the lamp and it didn’t do fuck all!) and doing little things that make me happy and I should sail thru the seasonal thing without needing a medication adjustment.

I should just talk to a brick wall.

I am definitely feeling the stress.

Then I feel guilty for feeling the stress, because even my counselor told me she has days she has to FORCE herself to go to work, force herself to go home and care for her foster kid and cook supper.

So where do I get off complaining if it’s tough even for people without all my disorders?

Bloody hell!

I told her I was kinda down and stressed and concerned about the seasonal affect.

She just wanted to highlight how well I have been doing the past year.

Yes,I am out of bed, getting dressed, and caring for my child, I MUST be a raging success.

Never mind that the housework is getting out of hand and I’m battling myself just to take a freaking shower and sometimes with the kid and cats crawling all over me and R setting me to finding boards that are out of stock everywhere while pressuring me to get this a-plus certification ASAP has me on the edge of a meltdown.

I put on clothes today, I MUST be peachy keen!

What a crock of shit.

I know the counselor means well.

I know the doctor means well.

But they have to actually listen and quit giving platitudes. When I say I feel like I am slipping and in trouble, they need to HEAR me.

Worse than mood swings or depression is the generalized cloud of anxiety that seems to imprison me.

There are times I can barely breathe the panic and anxiety get so bad.

The shrink says I am just in crisis with this stuff from the donor and the divorce and i JUST need to stay in counseling, for it is the best thing for me.

I wish counseling cured the panic attacks and anxiety and paranoia!

Adding to my disdain and cynicism, my counselor was telling me how she diagnosed one of her clients as schizo-affective because he hears voices but the client saw the shrink there and the shrink just declared him to have mild depression and sent him on his way.

LOVELY.

I hope the voices tell that client to snap the doctor’s neck!

When are the so called professionals here to help us ever going to stop and fucking listen to us??????

Shrinks are glorified pill pushers.

Therapists are great, but their opinion doesn’t carry the weight of the doctor’s.

WTF are we supposed to do?

I think I know what I am going to do.

It’s 9pm.

I think I am going to assume the fetal position in bed and try to drown out all the crappy thoughts in my head with some vapid TV show or movie.

Some days,like today, I just feel utterly hopeless, like nothing is ever going to change or get better.

So much for the happy pills.

I’m not happy.

I am hanging by a few threads and while that may be enough for the doctor and counselor…am I wrong to want more?